


Adventures in Body Checking (and other kinds of Physicality)

by LaBelleIzzy



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety, Before The Kiss (tm), Before graduation, Bitty is only situationally shy, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Guilt, Kink Exploration, Light BDSM, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Exchange, Pre-Slash, Shame, parse-positive, zimbits au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-01-05 22:10:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12198369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBelleIzzy/pseuds/LaBelleIzzy
Summary: Pre-slash. Kent and Bitty meet at a Boston munch and hit it off. Bitty is new, Kent's done some of this before.Of course, they don't know yet that they have Jack Zimmermann in common.





	1. We Met At A Munch

Kent knows the exact moment where he realized that he was in way, way, over his head.

He was at a munch in Boston. Normally, he claims, he’d never be caught dead in a Denny’s anymore but sometimes when he was in town he’d go, strictly for this meetup. (You could string him up by his thumbs and he’d never confess to his childhood love of the Moons Over My Hammy.)

The usual mix of nice, not-hockey kinksters were gathered around tables in the back. He said friendly hellos to one or two he’d chatted on Fetlife with, had innuendo laden conversations with a few more, and had unintentionally made a cute blond twink flinch by backing into him suddenly in the hallway leaving the bathroom.

“I promise, I won't hurt you,” Kent says, his hands held up between them, meant to be reassuring. 

“Um…” the blond said, “I never asked you for _that_ ,” eyes huge and gazing up at Kent. A flick of a glance gives Kent the once over, and Kent feels a warmth in his face and neck. 

This guy was CUTE, and Kent was into it.

“Maybe I _want_ you to hurt me,” the cute guy says quietly, glancing up from under his lashes. “There's a difference you know. Between hurting, and harming.” His slight smile blossoms as he trails his fingers slowly up his own chest, baring his neck. His fingertips trace his chest muscles and slide up the lines of his neck into his hair. His arms are beautiful, straining the fabric of his t-shirt. His neck arches invitingly, his eyes half lidded as he looks straight at Kent from under those long eyelashes.

Kent swallows, visibly, his eyes tracking the movement of the guy’s fingertips over his skin. “What’s your name?” He’s proud that his voice sounds normal, when it feels like his throat is dry as the Sahara. (“Thirsty, much?” he thinks sarcastically to himself)

He tears his gaze away from where the guy’s fingers keep running through the soft shorn hair at the back of his neck. It’s mesmerising, and probably intentional, Kent realizes as he sees the faint smirk around the guy's beautiful mouth. That mouth quirks further upwards into the sweetest smile Kent’s seen on a guy in ages.

“My name’s Eric, but I go by Bitty, and before you tease me about my size just you know that I hang out with literal, actual giants.” Bitty takes a half step closer. “And what do you go by, sweetheart? I’m Southern, so I use pet names all day long..."

Kent notices he doesn’t ask for his _name_ , but what he goes by, and wonders if maybe Bitty has recognized him. Recklessly he decides to be truthful anyway.

Well. To a point.

“You can call me Parse, or Parson, if you like,” Kent offers.

Bitty slides his hand back down out of his hair. His face shows a cat-like playfulness as he offers it to Kent just as though this were a regular handshake.

When Kent takes his hand (warm, dry, callused and strong), Bitty squeezes it lightly and says, “Well, Parson? You wanna?” He rolls his shoulders back and down in a little shimmy. He’s giving off slight vibes of nervous, but definitely interested.

“Yeah, I want,” Kent breathes, and still holding Bitty’s handshake, his other hand comes up, palm stroking up Bitty's prettily offered shoulder to the short hair at the back of his neck. Bitty shudders, and his eyes go to half mast as he offers his neck even harder and more obviously than Parse thought was possible. Kent inhales quickly. That hair IS as soft as Kent was thinking, so nice to touch... and Bitty’s responsiveness, DAMN, is sexy as hell… HE'S sexy as hell, beautiful, delicious, and wanting, and Parse wants to fuck him up in any way he'll be allowed to.

Realizing that makes him swallow hard. He gets ahold of his desire with a rough shake at the nape of Bitty's neck. “But,” he says more firmly, as Bitty's eyes snap open, “there's more to this than hurting or harming, and we have things to talk about before I'll agree on any extracurriculars with you. Understand?”

Bitty's face turns up to his, a complicated sort of hope in the wry twist of his mouth. “You mean it? You want...this? YOU want ME?”

Kent's mouth is dry. “Are you even _kidding_ me right now,” he rasps, releasing the handshake, bringing his other hand up to join his thumbs together lightly and stroke at the front of Bitty's throat, down to his collarbone notch.

Like a collar, but not, and the mere thought of THAT makes Kent's hands spasm slightly, his breath come faster.

Bitty responds beautifully, a tiny gasp, pink cheeks, and his pupils are BLOWN in his gorgeous brown enormous anime eyes.

“This?” Kent holds eye contact and takes a breath. His usual smirk takes up its spot on his face, albeit shaky and with less bulletproof confidence than usual. 

He releases Bitty with obvious reluctance, fingertips trailing soft over the tops of Bitty’s shoulders. “Oh YEAH. YEAH I do.”

Bitty's slightly dazed eyes follow his fingers as Kent reaches back and pulls his phone from his pocket.

“May I... give you my phone number?”

Bitty's eyes clear instantly. His smile is rabbit-quick and as bright as sunshine. “We can text? I'd like that!”

The force of that smile hits Kent in the sternum like a punch made out of hope. Reeling, but trying to keep his game face on, he opens his phone's contacts and offers his phone to Bitty. Bitty's “focused face” is too adorable as he enters his own number. Thank God he doesn't bite his tongue tip, that would be Kent, dead from cute. 

But then Bitty looks back up again to return the phone and bites his lip shyly, and there's Kent, dead anyway. 

“You should text me, Bitty.” He revives enough to flirt hard and make a strong finish with a wolf grin, and runs his thumb lightly along Bitty’s chin. “I think we could have a LOT of fun.”

“Count on it, Mr. Parson.” A decisive nod pairs well with that little mischievous smile. Bitty pivots on his heel and walks away, pushing open the door of the Denny's with a last glance back and a tiny wave.

Kent leans limply against the side of a nearby booth once Bitty's out of sight. “God, that kid's gonna kill me ...but fuck if I'm not gonna die happy,” he muttered.

Kent climbs back into his rental car and drives back to his hotel, pleasantly distracted, cheerfully thinking about maybes and possibilities. He doesn’t even realize till he’s turning back the covers for the hotel bed, that Zimms hadn't crossed his mind all evening.

“Huh,” he thought with a smile, falling asleep quickly, and for once looking forward to his dreams.


	2. Bitty's in the Haus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty squees about meeting Parse and Parse LIKING him.

Bitty lets himself back into the Haus quietly, watching the Uber driver head out again. He leans against the door for a moment, letting his day catch up with him, disbelief and wonder bringing his hands to his mouth as he stifles semi-hysterical giggles.

That was _Kent Parson._ Kent PARSON. He just met Kent Parson, the first time he ever dared to go to a gathering of… he can barely say it even to himself, KINKY people.

Kent. Parson. 

And Parson was INTO him. How was this even his life.

Shaking his head and still grinning, Bitty thought to himself that back in Sociology 152* his friend Trill would have never believed shy lil round faced freshman Bitty would have the balls (say ‘courage’, Bitty, some of us keep our balls in other places) to go to a munch, much less to successfully get someone’s number.

Much less if it were to be someone so far out of his league as Kent Freaking Parson…! 

Bitty sighed happily and gave himself permission to squee internally for the rest of the night. Because it’s not like he would be able to tell anyone in the Haus or on the team. 

He frowned a little. Yeah. Completely aside from the chirping potential which he thought he’d probably get used to if it wasn’t for the other complications, there was no way in hell he was going to out Kent as queer (and kinky) to ANYONE. 

A thread of unease worked its way into his squee, dampening his enthusiasm. Bitty screwed up his face in distaste. Little Itty Bitty picked up, and picked up WELL. A hot, incredibly handsome and skilled older man, a man who’s a legend in his field, and he can’t even brag about it?

His excitement deflates somewhat but crystallizes tight like a diamond in his heart. So he can’t brag and get himself puffed up by his friends. And this relationship, if it becomes a relationship and not just a hook-up, is likely going to have to be secret as long as it lasts. SO BE IT.

He ducks into the kitchen and grabs a snack and a Gatorade (he snickers at himself about being thirsty) and is overwhelmed again for just a moment (he’s not gonna tell Parson immediately about knowing who he is, he’s gonna prove first that he can keep a secret) realizing once more that he has Kent. Parson’s. Phone. Number.

Bitty shivers, leaning on the countertop, remembering how it felt seeing Kent’s eyes change color, grow darker just before he reached out to touch Bitty’s shoulder, neck, hair… throat. It's like a flashback using his whole body.

“Oh my dear lord in heaven…” he gasped quietly, reliving that moment of connection, and the feeling of heat that transferred between them at that small but intentional touch. It was the clear intent that made it so hot, so unbearably sexy. The confidence and the intensely deliberate feel to his touch had made Bitty dizzy in the moment.

“He wants ME…? He WANTS me. Wow…” Bitty ran his hand up his cheek, inflamed with a blush once again, and then, because he can, he runs his fingertips back over the path Kent’s hands had taken. Up his shoulder. Stroking his neck. Behind his ear, and into the soft fuzzy undercut at the back of his neck. He doesn’t know when he’s closed his eyes, remembering… and then both hands, wondering, stroking both hands down the front of his throat… 

It’s not the same, because his hands don’t fit the way Kent’s did, but the shivery contact high is almost as good to remember as it was to experience the first time.

Bitty stops once he realizes he’s standing in the middle of the Haus kitchen with his own hands loosely cupping his neck and his cock straining against the fly of his pants. His hausmates would um definitely have questions, and would most definitely start chirping him for this.

He grins, blushes harder, and runs lightly up the stairs with his Gatorade and snack to eat in his room. Planning what he’s going to text… Parse.

(Glad he didn’t say (yet) that he asked what to call Parse so he’d know what name to scream into the blankets someday) 

He'd have to find some way to settle down so he could get some sleep tonight. A secret grin crosses his face as he opens his door. He'd have to be quiet, and probably quick, but the anticipation of things he might get to do, or get to have done to him someday, is almost unbearable. The tension MUST be relieved, heh.

Because, good Lord. Early morning checking lessons with Jack came _early._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited and posted this on my phone tonight, because cat. Thanks be to the gods' for Google Docs and Drive. They work well across devices for me, so I can write in lots of places. 
> 
> Please bring me notice of any typos, verb tense agreement stuff, or if I rolled one for copypasta fail.
> 
> Alternatively, please let me know it you liked it! <3
> 
> Planning on next chapter being POV Jack, and then alternating chapter POV as needed till this thing's. Done with me.
> 
> *Sociology 152 was the course I took in college at UCSB, called Human Sexuality, and taught by a husband-wife team. I wound up taking the course with my first-ever boyfriend, and it was endlessly both educational and amusing to us: for instance, making jokes about the "Soc 152 "lab" that everyone "studied so hard for" " hee hee hee
> 
> Now taking requests for suggestions of SMH characters you'd like to see guest star in this, or have their own fic. Go ahead, drop a prompt. Can't make promises but I'll see what I can do.


	3. Coffee at Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bittle makes him smile. It's a small thing, and something he'd rarely admit, certainly not directly. He'll take the chirps. It helps with Jack's guilt and shame about how he treated Bittle when they first knew each other.

Waking up on his usual routine early in the morning, it's _almost_ no trouble bringing Bittle along to early morning practice at Faber. 

Bittle makes him smile. It's a small thing, and something he'd rarely admit, certainly not directly. He'll take the chirps from his teammates instead. It helps with his guilt and shame about how he treated Bittle when they first knew each other.  
Jack feels guilty about many things in his life. But being dismissive and cold to Bittle, lashing out at him after that one goal, arguing with the coaches about having him on the team at all, it’s like an old bruise that refuses to heal well.

The truth was that he was an asshole then, and he knew it in the moment. Insecure and jealous of his father’s attention and praise going to Bittle, jealous that Bittle got the shot HE was planning for… He holds the shame as a tight, sick-feeling space up under his ribcage. Whenever he flashes on one of those memories of his poor behavior, his skin feels ugly, hot and angry, his face aflame like one of those infrared lamps outside a sports bar or aquatic center. 

Growing up, Jack's favorite place was the rink. Movement almost always quieted the tumult in his head and heart. Skating has been his favorite thing since he can remember. Literally his earliest vivid memories all come from the skating rink: the weight and pinch of the skates, the cold under your hands and hip or butt when you fall. That feeling like flying when you really get moving. Skating, HOCKEY, was the thing he always felt he was good enough at. The rink, by extension, felt safe and happy.

Other memories flash by in an instant: greasy ice rink tourist-food. Maple taffy, made in the snow of his backyard in Montreal for the New Year, with his grandparents and his older cousins. The smell of overcooked coffee, also from the skating rinks and hockey stadiums. That's probably why he always takes his coffee black, Jack muses as he pulls on his jacket, because it smells *correct* to his oldest memories. More memories: the bright clean smell of snow with pine trees. Woodsmoke from their fireplace in the winter. The feel of the living room rug under his palms and elbows as he watched his dad play hockey on the TV. 

Sitting next to Maman warm and close on the couch watching Papa when he was tiny. Helping her make dinner when he was a bit older (but his Papa was still away). Training with Papa on the backyard ice, tugging his Papa outside to play, his Papa smiling down at him. 

Then: School, and feeling awkward. Hockey, and feeling awkward, partly because he always wanted to do better, be better. And not everyone wanted to work as hard as he did. Being called “weird.” Being called “stuck up” and deciding, well, if wanting to be good or even great like his Papa and his uncles was weird or stuck-up, that's what he would be. 

Who needed them anyway.

The memory of hot tears on his face. He came home from school after he'd been called awful names all day. The shame of trying to hide his failure from Maman. Beginning to suspiciously reexamine stories Maman would read to him, tell him. The skepticism of later childhood: did that REALLY happen, or is it just a STORY. Needing to know what was true when people were hurtful liars all around him. 

Time and distance have dulled the vividness of the humiliation and loneliness, but he thinks, calmer now, no wonder he went away to study history.

Perspective matters. 

He thinks to himself, that the stories are different depending on who's telling them. (Feels a brief sense of shame again over how he used to treat Bittle, and why.) 

He knows he's better now, he thinks they're friends now, they tease each other good naturedly now, he's helping Bittle in the last of his post concussion recovery and he looks forward to their season starting soon, and God knows they do play well together… but the remnants of his old shame make him gentle in how he knocks on Bittle’s door this morning. 

“C'mon Bittle. Checking practice,” he says quietly. A sleepy murmur that sounds like, “Just getting my shoes, Jack” makes him chuckle and rap lightly twice on the door before heading downstairs. Bittle knows by now: that means “I'm going to pour two coffees now, yours will be waiting once you slump your way down to the kitchen.”

Bittle’s rumpling up his hair and still yawning when Jack hands him a travel mug. Jack picks up his bag and Bitty’s, and Bitty opens the door for Jack, sipping coffee with his eyes half mast, and closing the door after them as they go down the steps in the grey twilight before dawn.

They have a routine. Jack doesn’t have to think about it.

When Bitty finishes his coffee, he holds out his hand to Jack, and Jack returns his bag. The empty travel mug goes in the zippered pocket on the end of the duffel. Satisfyingly, it’s just large enough for the coffee mug, a wallet, and a set of keys. 

As they come walking up into the shadow of the rink at Faber, Bittle is finally awake enough to look over at Jack with a lopsided grin and give him yet another attempt at a hip-check. As always, Jack braces against it and gives the appearance of not-moving, while smirking down at the shorter blond. He holds the door open and Bittle ducks under his arm, scooting sideways to get himself and his bag through the door.

A twist of sadness, _tristesse_ , pierces Jack in his belly where the shame usually coils itself. He thinks perhaps the next time Bitty goes to hip-check him, he will let Bitty move him, and see what might happen afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, yes. looking like this will be my nanowrimo project, because I'm kind of in love with it and want to write it more than my other novel-type project write now (hah, leaving this typo) and I'm pretty certain this will be more like 6-7 chapters but it's all amorphous swirling desire and possibility up there in my head-heart-yoni right now SO we shall see.


	4. Flirting game: Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent dies a little every time Bitty flirts with him.  
> (Bitty flirts with him A WHOLE LOT.)

*ERB* : why HELLO there Mr Parson!

Kent knows that he has a habit of texting almost exactly how he speaks so he tells Bitty exactly what finding a text from him has done to Kent's face.

*KVP* : *grinning* hi there Bitty! Good to hear from you!

*ERB* : (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

*KVP* : got home safely from the munch?

*ERB* : oh yeah, the Uber driver was totally nice. My friend Trill and I shared to get home to school. They're the reason I came on out to the Denny's in the first place.

*KVP* : oh really? So your friend was interested, and talked you into coming? Where should I send their thank you card? 0:-)

*ERB* : … okay, first of all *blushy emoji*

*ERB* : second of all, sort of? 

*ERB* : Trill and I took Sociology 152, aka Human Sexuality together, second semester last year. It's taught by a husband and wife team, but fortunately they're decently civilized in their approach to LGBTQ sex education and “alternative lifestyles” as well

*KVP* : I can hear those finger quotes so clearly, Bitty. :) Seriously, though, did they do a good job?

*ERB* : I mean, I *think* so? The form of sex education they offer down in Georgia is kinda hit or miss, so while I understand the basics of procreative sex (married and missionary-style, mind you!) I had to learn about the kind of sex I wanted to have from my high  
school’s GSA. And the internet.

*ERB* : let's be honest, it was mostly the internet. I was so far back in the closet back home that I practically slept on a bed of mothballs and wire hangers.

*KVP* : oooh. sounds like it wasn't very comfortable, metaphorically or actually

*ERB* : ...nope! It's not perfect now, though it’s better. I'm out to a few friends, I can talk about some things with people I can trust. Even went on a couple of dates last year.

*KVP* : yeah? How'd they go? Have fun? *Eyebrow waggle*

*ERB* : *FACEPALM*

*ERB* : *peeking out from behind fingers* um, mostly embarrassing?

*ERB* : my first time going out was just a coffee date. It was nice but nothing else really happened, we didn't start dating or anything

*ERB* : second date, a couple of teammates set me up with someone for Winter Screw

*KVP* : *spits up coffee* WAIT WHAT

*ERB* : *LAUGHING* don't blame me, it's just what all the university kids call it. That's not the official name a’course!

*KVP* : … I didn’t expect talking with you would make me snarf my beverages. That’s so unfair.

*ERB* : Well, expect the unexpected then! *grinning emoji*

*KVP* : AHEM you were telling me about that second date you went on and exactly why was it embarrassing!

*ERB* : well my hausmates, I mean my hausmates NOW but they were just my teammates then? They said it was traditional to set your bro up with their Winter Screw date. So they found me someone, on one of the other university sports teams, & he was nice enough, good looking I suppose… but he was pre-gaming before the dance. *disapproving emoji*

*KVP* : ...that’s still not the embarrassing part, is it

*ERB* : my date was so drunk that he threw up on my shoes before we even left the dance venue… and they were my *good* shoes, you know? *flips tables emoji*

*ERB* : I mean, it wasn’t funny at the /time/, but it’s… well. Somewhat funnier now.

*KVP* : I’m sorry that’s how it wound up going for you, Bitty. Dates are supposed to be fun, getting to know the other person, flirting and being flirted with, like that.

*ERB* : *sighs* I know. 

*ERB* : that’s part of why I hit on you at the Denny’s. 

*ERB* : I wanted to try and see what happened when I practiced flirting shamelessly. *looks out under lashes*

*KVP* : Oh… oh.

*ERB* : *flutters eyelashes, shy smile*

*KVP* : um, well, it worked apparently

*ERB* : Oh did it now?

*KVP* : ...

*ERB* : that’s good to know

*KVP* : Okay? okay.

*ERB* : *slow Georgia smile*

*ERB* : Mr Parson... you said you had things to ask me before any shenanigans might-could occur. Happens that I’m thinking about shenanigans *licks lips* and wondering what else it is you wanted to know? *bashful* 

*KVP* : Wow, Bitty…

Kent literally had to take a minute to recover from the barrage of, you almost couldn’t call it anything but seduction. His face was way too warm for a first, an /introductory/ session of just /texting/ with someone new.

*KVP* : … never let anyone tell you that you don’t have game. Damn.

*ERB* : let’s just say that blatant charm and careful flirtation are among the tools of survival for your teenage closeted gay boys in the South. We also use weaponized gossip and carefully honed passive-aggression.

*ERB* : *wicked grin* How you holding up over there, Parson?

*KVP* : Well I ain’t dead yet, kid. Which is good because I do have PLANS for you...

*ERB* : ...

*ERB* : eep!

*KVP* : *smugly* that’s more like it

*ERB* : *blushy emoji*

*ERB* : ...all right I can’t say that wasn’t fair

*KVP* : Hey Bitty, I have to make it an early night tonight; I’m flying out at fuck-me-oh-dark-thirty for work, and I’ve got to get enough sleep to be able to do my job.

*KVP* : I’m really looking forward to getting to know you, and I hope you’re looking forward to it too.

*ERB* : That’s also fair, because sleep is amazing and necessary. I do understand about early mornings and being able to do your job. And yes, yes I am definitely looking forward to knowing you better. Um, Biblically, if I get a chance, (insert smiling with all my teeth emoji) and if that’s something you also want. *grinning*

*KVP* : *flips tables* BITTY YOU CAN’T JUST SAY STUFF LIKE THAT 

*ERB* : Um i believe I just DID say stuff like that, can’t isn’t the question anymore. *angel emoji*

Kent is literally tearing at his hair.  
Bitty is killing him here. (Bitty is winning. And he can’t get his hands on Bitty right now anyway so he needs to figure out how to dial himself back a little.)

*KVP* : Kid, you’re killing me here. I *will* need to sleep, and you’re making it … 

*ERB* : hard?

*ERB* : *smirking* *evil grin*

*KVP* : *exhale* *facepalm*

*ERB* : *flutters eyelashes*

*ERB* : *angel emoji*

*KVP* : Okay, okay I get it, you’re adorable. Stop flirting for half a nanosecond and let me make sure we’re clear about a few things.

*ERB* : *focused and determined face emoji* Yes sir.

Kent goes up in flames. “Yes sir.” Oh my GOD.

He walks away from his phone for a moment, scrubbing through his hair and over his face as he goes over the main points he needs to be clear about. He wants to make sure to 1) understand what Bitty knows so far about kink, 2) what kind of definite greens and reds Bitty already knows about for himself, and 3) he needs to send Bitty his homework (the kink worksheet notes, articles, and checklists.)

Asking about relationship goals can wait.

*KVP* : Bitty. I’m sending you some checklists I need you to fill out, some links to articles and websites I want to make sure you are familiar with. *smirk* Consider this your homework.

*ERB* : *squawking emoji* 

*ERB* : You can’t give me homework, you’re not the boss of me!

*KVP* : *raises eloquent eyebrow*

*ERB* : … dammit.

*ERB* : *pouting* *holds out hand for the homework*

*KVP* : Thank you. Good boy. *proud*

*KVP* : Okay. Goodnight, Bitty. Text me occasionally if you want, I’ll reply when I can, but tomorrow is going to be very busy for me.

*ERB* : Goodnight, Parse. *blows kisses*

***

Kent flops down onto the bed and throws his phone onto the opposite pillow. Groans into the pillow. Stops before actually screaming into the pillow like an overstimulated teenager.

This little SHIT.

He raises his head up a bit, cracks his neck side to side, and slumps down again onto the rumpled pillows.

Bitty's certainly something else. Kent’s Gramps would probably call him a “firecracker”. Well, that's if he didn't know Kent was thinking about dating Bitty.

Wait. Am I thinking about dating Bitty? We barely know each other…

Kent groans into the pillow beneath his face. What am I even doing here.

Here's this adorable delectable eager kink interested VIRGIN (let's not forget about THAT, Kent Virgil. Oh my god) which is both the hottest and the most intimidating thing simultaneously.

Already I know he's responsive as fuck, oh my god those eyes and that blush even there in the goddamn munch at the Denny's. And then here in the texting just open as hell about what he's done and what he hasn't, what he wants and what he doesn't. 

He's nearly perfect. 

And God do I wanna get my teeth in him, put my mouth and my hands all over him, debauch the hell out of him, RUIN him completely till he's gasping and writhing and crying out, and then falling back as limp as a dishrag so he'll let me take care of him, afterwards.

The back of Kent's head whispers “and maybe he'll offer to take care of me too, sometimes” and the front of his head offers a wry smile at the admission while it finally notices that his body's been slow grinding into the sheets beneath him. 

It feels really good.

He pulls a hand out from under the pillow, picks his hips up slightly, and reaches down to readjust himself. Strokes himself slowly a few times, thinking about the possibilities... and some old bittersweet memories. 

One thing Jack does not know about Kent, he reflects, is that after a period of grieving and getting fucked up, Kent had found his way into the kink community. At his mom’s gentle suggestion and his sister’s “I’ll kick your ass if you don’t…” insistence, he’d also found himself a good and sympathetic LGBTQ-friendly therapist. 

He made a few mistakes as a newbie there in the community, though none as horrific as what happened with Jack. More importantly, he started understanding what he wanted and needed most.  
As he started understanding the concepts underlying ethical BDSM such as “safe sane and consensual” and GGG (Good, Giving, and Game), it built a need in him: the absolute NEED for clear communication. The kind of communication and honesty that’s really required if you want a relationship of this kind to go well.

The kind of communication he and Jack were too young and dumb to know how to do. The lack of which was what got them in so much trouble.

Also, after a lot of research, and some very pleasant experimentation, Kent was willing to admit that this was the kind of relationship he wanted. Vanilla sex was great insofar as it went. Hell after a long dry spell all kinds of sex were fantastic. Kent tried not to judge. But knowing what you really want and then going after it; that’s something that makes a whole different level of satisfaction and potential happiness, possible. If you can make it work, that is.

It had been a damn long time since he’d had a really immersive sex experience, and he missed it. Missed all of it: the feeling of someone else lovingly touching his skin, how his muscles stretched and flexed and burned as two people worked together on a physical level, though not only on a physical level, to chase pleasure and achieve orgasm, comfort, ease. Ghost hands ran down his shoulders, back, and spine, over his hips, and he shivered. Half asleep, he rolled over and rucked up the comforter beneath his thigh, then tucked a pillow into arms, pulled it hard against his belly. 

Masturbation was such a lonely kind of sex. Lonely but necessary, Kent supposed wistfully. Gets some needs met, but definitely not all of them. 

He’s really looking forward to touching Bitty again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a delightful new crew of @omgcheckplease fans and writers to consult and commiserate with during NaNoWriMo (and hopefully afterwards)! I'd like to dedicate this chapter to all of them, because sprints and encouragement and general conversation sure makes the prospect of writing over 1K words per day easier. Less lonely.
> 
> (I've been relating to Parse kinda hard while writing this chapter. He's a social boy but he's a lonely boy too.)
> 
> be welcome to come find me on Tumblr if you like, I reblog Check please! content at makeshittyknightproud and I post my own stuff and reblog a ton of things at labelleizzy.


	5. A Thinking About You Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty goes through the checklists and websites Parse sends him and it’s really an education in possibilities and squicks.
> 
> and then, of course, pie.

Bitty can’t believe how lucky he is, how he feels this good about himself just from talking to Parson for awhile. They’ve barely touched, after all, all he has is Parson’s words and that very brief moment together when they met… but WHAT a moment, seriously!  
  
More wow. Bitty is glad he’s back in his room again after their chat, there’s so many possibilities unfolding before him that he never would have even thought of before, *naughty* things that would make any gay boy blush; much less one like himself who’s barely been kissed.  
  
But Bitty knows he’s been blessed with a very VIVID imagination and he has, of course, access to the internet for purposes of educating himself on some of these topics so he has definite opinions about the naughty things he’s been wanting to try.  
  
Parse has blown those ideas up in technicolor. Good lord.  
  
Orgasm denial. Well maybe once he’s had a few dozen partnered orgasms, that sounds like great fun. Bondage? Maybe. The whole thing of being at someone else’s mercy in either case, seems like something that he’d need to trust someone a whole lot for. And while he was willing to admit that he is totally HOT for Kent Parson he’s not sure he’s totally willing to give up his agency for that.  
  
Or, not yet, anyway. Parse said they could talk a lot more about all the items on the lists, put conditions on things, only try things when Bitty was happy and willing, and he emphasized that he was not EVER gonna force Bitty to do something he hadn’t agreed to in advance (but he did talk about perhaps surprising Bitty with something on his Green List without telling him first, which honestly has Bitty even more hot and bothered about the whole concept).  
  
He’d think it was completely unfair how good Kent is at all this stuff, but then he thinks about how he’s going to BENEFIT from all this experience in the end and can’t possibly feel bad or guilty about it. He reminds himself that he’ll learn things that hopefully he can put to work to make Kent feel good too. MMMmmmm.  
  
Not that he objects to feeling really good himself, you know. Heh. The pain play certainly sounds interesting, and Bitty’s pretty sure he’s going to like biting. Almost certainly sure. It’s figured largely in a number of his fantasies, and goodness knows he likes watching the reactions people have when he sees it in porn. The noises people make: hot. Hotter than hell.  
  
He spends a few minutes thinking about other sensations he might like. The pressure of another person squishing onto him, like a sexy hug. YES. Beard burn? Maybe. That light, not quite ticklish touch Parse stroked down his neck was so intense in that moment and SUPER erotic, which had surprised him. Bitty had no idea a light touch would affect him so strongly. The way people talk about sex, it's all about hard and fast and passionate. Soft and slow and dragging it out, now that he's understanding that as a possible thing, sounds amazing.  
  
Bitty considers the idea of that same slow gentle focused attention on his chest, the back of his neck, his butt and thighs. And just that much? Makes him shiver with anticipation. Literally raises goosebumps for him.  
  
He’s glad Kent doesn’t have a problem with him being inexperienced with sex... and well all this other stuff either. Bitty’s looking forward to being able to play with someone, someone who knows what they're doing and can really TALK about what they want and how to get it, what they will and won’t do, and even though they haven't sat down to Define The Relationship Bitty feels pretty good about even if this is a casual intense thing, that he has good stuff to offer into the deal. Kent has good stuff, and he has good stuff. And together they may be able to build something really interesting together, maybe something beautiful.  
  
Bitty just hopes it’s okay if he develops feelings along the way. Because Kent is one incredibly beautiful man, he’s smart and funny and understanding, and… and KIND. He’s kind. You might not expect a hockey player and Stanley Cup winner to be kind, but you’d have to not know about Kent’s instagram and the pictures of his cat, his CAT for goodness sake, who he treats like a queen and spoils to the ends of the earth. You’d have to know nothing about how loyal his team members are to him as their captain, and Bitty has done some extensive googling of the interviews available online once he realized who he’d met that fateful day at the Denny’s, and Bitty knows a LOT More Than Nothing about Kent Parson now.  
  
One might even say he’s becoming a Kent Parson fanboy. A fan of Parson. Of Parse. Right. He closes his eyes, shakes his head. He has to remember to not call him Kent, can’t get in that habit, can’t let on that he knows who Parse is; maybe eventually he’ll have to admit it but he wants Parse to trust him first, to know that Bitty is trustworthy and can hold a secret when a secret needs to be held.  
  
Parse. Parson. Not PARSER, that’s what his TEAM calls him, that would ALSO be a giant give-away. Dammit.  
  
Bitty pulls at his own hair in frustration. He needs to not fuck this up, he needs to be careful about what language he uses, and since the end goal of these get togethers is to let go of control, oh dear.  
  
Bitty pulls his mouth off to the side and huffs in a further expression of frustration, thinking furiously. He can keep secrets. He kept his own secret for nearly twenty years, didn’t he? He’s kept classmates’ secrets, surprise secrets for his mama from coach, and the other way ‘round, he’s kept friends’ secrets here at Samwell.  
  
He takes a deep breath. He can do this. He can! Okay. Maybe it’s time to distract himself from sexy and previously unthinkably unattainable hockey players and go down to the kitchen and bake awhile. (oh he needs to ask Kent ...(dammit, NOT KENT) ..."Parse", what kind of pie he likes so he can send him a treat sometime real soon.)  
  
A Thinking About You pie. Bitty blushes and chides himself for being silly but he knows he’s still going to do it. He shoots off a quick text to Parse while he’s still thinking about it and goes down the stairs to inventory his baking supplies again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter "Five" was pushing 3700 words and I... just can't allow that. UGH it messes with the structure I'd decided on for alternating POV characters but the next three chapters are gonna be all-Bitty POV. Because reasons.  
> *throws hands in the air*  
> complete. madness.  
> it's off the rails now, ladies and gentlefolk
> 
> also in editing prior to posting, I actually said out loud, "I need to add more carriage returns to make the spacing work" *FACEPALM FOREVER* way to date yourself, dearheart.  
> eh.


	6. Pies, emojis, and wank, oh my!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent and Bitty text more. The rating on this story goes up. Kent is honest with himself about a few things.

Parse is face down in the sheets, rolling his hips to move his cock through his lubricated fist, and nearly done with his session (god just a little more, I need it so bad), shoulders and back muscles tight and straining, ass muscles working in a pistoning rhythm when he hears the text message notification chime. He refuses to think about it being from management, or the team, or even Swoops. After their little chat, he’s hoping that it’s Bitty. Maybe Bitty has sent him a little note or a selfie (god help him if Bitty’s as good at selfies as he is with flirting) … he lets his mind roam while he continues fucking his fist, chasing his orgasm...

What if Bitty sent him selfies doing something Kent has told him he has to do? What if Kent tells Bitty to bite himself, or to masturbate, or to learn to come on command (Oh God) or what if he teaches Bitty how to open himself up, or to wear a cock ring and do things to himself (OH god,) or how to give blow jobs? What if he walks Bitty through fellating a dildo on skype? What if he makes Bitty masturbate for him on skype “imagine it’s my hands touching you, imagine you’re leaning back on me, MY hands on your cock, MY hand running up and down your body, your neck, your face, into your hair, pulling your hair” and that’s what makes him come, finally. 

The notion of playing with Bitty is so addictive and there’s so many things they can possibly do together, both in meatspace and virtually. The potentials are so impossibly hot, and they have this kink agreement they’re setting up, but what tips Kent over the edge is a soft, almost romantic scene that’s more like lovemaking than hot nasty sex?

Kent may be a lot of things, he may fuck up some things still, but one thing he’s promised to never do if he can avoid it is to lie to himself about what he wants. And what he really wants is YES a lot of hot nasty sex, but with a tenderness and humor and affection underneath. A real human connection, authentic and honest. Bitty seems like he’s ideal for that.

Especially in the soft fuzzy afterglow of a good orgasm, Bitty seems like he's ideal for that.

He’s cleaning himself up and wiping up some of the mess he’s left in the hotel room bed before he grabs up his phone to see what the text message is about.

And damn, if it isn't Bitty after all.

*ERB* : So I may or may not have mentioned something... I’m a baker by hobby and love making tasty treats for my friends.  
*ERB* : What kind of pie do you like, Parse? I’d like to send you a care package, if that’s fine by you.  
*KVP* : *boggles*  
*KVP* : Wait, really??  
*ERB* : I never joke about pie. 

Who does that? Who offers to send someone they’ve just met, a fresh baked pie?? This is turning Kent inside out because nobody, well maybe his mom, ever offered to make Kent something. Take him out, sure. But make him something delicious and then mail it to him? What the actual hell. Kent’s confused and flattered and endeared and his heart is beating fast almost like fear but what is there to be afraid of? It’s just Bitty being nice?

*KVP* : Like, this is a thing you actually do?  
*KVP* : Don’t get me wrong, I’m actually flattered I think, but nobody’s ever offered me something like this before.  
*ERB* : That’s fine Mister Parson, if you don’t like pie I can make something else. But pie is, well, easy as pie for me! I love making it and I love sharing it.

Kent takes a minute to laugh about the timing of this wholesome exchange after what he’s just been doing in the hotel bed.

*KVP* : I feel like there’s a double entendre to be made somewhere here with you offering me your pie but I can’t quite find it. *grin*  
*KVP* : Bitty, yeah, I like pie. Cherry’s my favorite, followed by chocolate silk, followed by strawberry rhubarb. Any of those would be fine.  
*ERB* : Well, that’s good news! And I have ingredients for any of those right now here in the Haus kitchen. I’ll get started on the pie crust and decide which I want to make first.  
*KVP* : the “Haus”?  
*ERB* : Oh yeah, it’s what we call the frat house where i live. It’s an old place, used to belong to the women’s volleyball team and my team took it over some years back.  
*KVP* : Cool, cool. College shit, sure. I’m not all up on that stuff unfortunately as I’m basically a self made man. *sunglasses emoji*  
*KVP* : did some community college classes nights while I’ve been working, mostly subjects I was good at when i was in school that I just wanted to learn more about.  
*KVP* : mostly math, a little history and psychology  
*ERB* : I’m trying to find all the classes I can find with a connection to food. It’s harder than I thought, but I’m definitely enjoying those!  
*ERB* : Kinda wish I could skip the general ed requirements, and I don’t know exactly what I want to major in yet.  
*ERB* : You liked math though, huh?  
*ERB* : Math up to a certain point has always worked pretty easy for me.  
*ERB* : I was cooking with my mama from a very young age. We got me to measuring and counting, multiplying and dividing, and fractions, by the time I was in first grade.  
*ERB* : Speaking of which, one cherry pie, coming right up!  
*ERB* : You let me know where you want it delivered, okay? I don’t wanna come off at all creepy or stalkery or whatever, happy to send it to your work or to meet you somewhere…  
*KVP* : Heh okay sure  
*KVP* : as a matter of fact I do travel a lot for work  
*KVP* : so I can check with work about where I’m staying and you can send it there.  
*KVP* : I’m really only home 2-3 nights a week sometimes. Sometimes things are slow and I don’t travel at all for a couple of weeks at a time.  
*KVP* : I like that because then I get to hang out with my cat and catch up on my trashy trashy tv shows.  
*ERB* : You have a cat?? *starry eyes emoji*  
*ERB* : I always wanted a cat, but Coach, my dad? didn’t like them. And mama, she’s allergic.  
*ERB* : *sad face emoji*  
*ERB* : when i have my own place i have All The Plans to adopt a kitty.  
*KVP* : Yeah my cat is pretty much the Queen of my existence  
*ERB* : As it should be. *grinning emoji*  
*ERB* : Now, more about these TV shows of yours. How trashy is trashy? *devil emoji*  
*ERB* : are we talking Baywatch trashy or Desperate Housewives trashy?  
*KVP* : uh i guess we’re talking Pawn Stars and Cake Wrecks trashy?  
*ERB* : … you’re FINE.  
*ERB* : the boys I live with alternate between explosion-porn, horrible-reality-show, yelling-at-the-screen sports games (naturally, as a sport fraternity) and everyone’s childhood favorites. And we have boys from Boston, Canada, New York, California, Georgia (me), Florida. Lord, from all over!  
*ERB* : we’ve had to come up with a complicated system, involving more math than I can usually handle...  
*KVP* : ...statistics? Or probability math? Or something algebraic?  
*ERB* : ...ugh, probably. Who knows? Not me.  
*KVP* : *snerk*  
*KVP* : *raises eyebrow*  
*ERB* : Shush, YOU.  
*KVP* : *laughing emoji*  
*ERB* : *frowning emoji*  
*ERB* : *bowl, spoon and pie emojis* Get me, Mister P?  
*KVP* : *multiple laughing emojis* Still gonna laugh at you, Mister B.  
*ERB* : *grumbling*

Kent is legit laughing into his hand by now. Who is this guy and how is he so fucking adorable? Oh my god. He wanders back into the bathroom, phone in hand, grinning down at the screen.

He scrubs his hand over his hair and starts the water for the shower, because, well, he for one doesn’t ever want to stay crusty after a wank sesh.

It gives him a secret thrill to know he’s naked and talking to Bitty. And that he just came all over the bed, thinking about doing stuff to Bitty. He feels like a little bit of a perv, but he’s going to be so totally fucking responsible here about communicating, and boundaries, and helping Bitty get some needs met while he also gets some needs met. It’s going to be great, he hopes. He really likes this kid, no, this GUY... and he’s determined to do this right.

He can totally do this right.

But right now, flirting by text is ridiculously fun, and Kent has every intention of enjoying himself.

*KVP* : How’s the “homework” coming along?  
*KVP* : BRB, just hopping in the shower.  
*KVP* : *evil grin* *winky emoji*

Kent steps under the water snickering, and imagining the face Bitty's probably making after Kent delivered that last piece of news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that I wrote it so that Bitty's offering his cherries to Kent. I'm plain awful, and I didn't even do it on purpose!  
> *grinning emoji*  
> *shrug emoji*


	7. goddammit, Kent Parson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicknames, bluffing, and truth: Bitty and Parse are gonna set a few things, straight... well...

Bitty's blushing fit to beat the band.

“BRB gotta go be all naked and wet in the shower…” GODDAMMIT PARSE

Bitty's staring at the screen for fully thirty seconds straight before he can reboot his brain and do something other than think about a NAKED KENT PARSON flirting with him by text… and how was this his life again?

Lord, Lord, Lord. He throws the phone at his pillow and buries his face in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he slides his hands up into his hair and grips it at the crown, pulling gently on that longer hair to try and control his reactions. 

Breathe. He's playing with you. And that's okay, it's part of what you signed up for, right, Eric? You just didn't expect it to be so HARD huh? Hardy har har, yuk yuk yuk, you're hilarious. Ugh. 

Biting his lips and tugging at his hair, he takes a deep breath and retrieves his phone. Kent takes a quick shower, Lord.

*KVP* : Hey Bitty. How's your homework coming along for me? *grinning with all the teeth emoji*

Bitty has to stop and literally fan himself for a moment.

*ERB* : well I have to admit, Parse, your assignments are MUCH more interesting than most of my class assignments have been!  
*ERB* : *grinning back*  
*KVP* : glad to hear it. Care to share what you've learned with the class? *eyebrow raised*  
*ERB* : please promise me you'll try not to actually add a professor kink to my collection. I don't know how I'd get through to graduate if that were the case  
*ERB* : *exhale* okay  
*KVP* : it's fine, Bitty *laughing* just tell me what you think about what I sent you.  
*ERB* : *scratches head* well, like I said, there's an awful lot of interesting things up in there  
*ERB* : I found the idea of the traffic light consent notice pretty useful? And I think I've got the checklists sorted under that system.  
*KVP* : Noted.  
*ERB* : Parse, I'm not sure what else I should tell you. I have no idea where to start.  
*KVP*: okay, that's a fair point...  
*KVP*: Look Bitty, I’m just going to be totally blunt and ask: so am I basically your first for everything?  
*ERB* : Yes, you pretty much are. I don’t know, I’ve barely done ANYTHING  
*ERB* : Darlin’, I ain’t exactly drowning in experience here. Mostly folks who kissed me were drunk or my bros, or both.  
*KVP* : wow NICE, kissing your bros. college is kinda different than what I imagined lol *eyebrow waggling*  
*ERB* : Well. *Blush* I gotta say, that's something real nice about my University. More of the boys are more relaxed and accepting than I could have ever imagined.  
*ERB* : but for the record  
*ERB* : I’ve only kissed two people back in my life … and then one of them threw up on my shoes, right afterwards.  
*KVP* : OH. Ugh, that can't have been fun.  
*KVP* :*Green face vomiting emoji*  
*ERB* : *laughing* Never went far enough to know, you know, what I’d be, like, really _into._  
*ERB* : I do know I love to dance with just ’bout anyone, doesn’t matter who, even if I AM gay as the day is long. Girls, boys, folks in between genders, as long as we’re all having a good time.  
*ERB* : https:// youtu. be/kc17H68IKMs  
*KVP* : huh. That’s some gorgeous men doing some gorgeous dancing.  
*ERB* : I know right? When I need to get out of my head, I pull out some of those routines and put my headphones in and just dance.  
*KVP* : *files that away for future reference* Thanks, Eric. =)  
*ERB* : *blush* ...  
*ERB* : I love it when I get long hugs. Like aside from Shitty, everyone I know always lets go of a hug before I do.  
*KVP* : ...Shitty?  
*ERB* : oh yeah. Team nicknames or something. Apparently his real name is so horrible he said, “no, brah, you don't get it, my real name is shitty. Like so shitty” and the team just picked it up and went with it.  
*ERB* : he's Shitty. Adam became Holster, a play on his last name. Justin is Ransom, also from his last name. Will is Dex, Derek is Nursey, Chris is Chowder, and I'm Bitty. Both from my last name and because Shitty said I was itty-bitty. Ugh.  
*KVP* : does everyone on your team have nicknames?  
*ERB* : yup! Oh well, everyone except Jack. Shitty’s known him the longest of everyone on the team. He keeps making up nicknames for Jack but he's the only one who ever uses them.  
*ERB* : because even hockey players have levels of ridiculous they won't stoop to.

Bitty's just hit send on that message when he realizes what he's done. He decides to take a deep breath and try to bluff his way out.

*KVP* : … huh.  
*ERB* : huh, what?

A few minutes pass with no reply and Bitty's worrying, expecting that he's screwed this up for all time by admitting that he plays hockey.

*ERB* : ...Parson? You okay over there?  
*KVP* : How are you about phone calls? I think we need to make sure we are on the same page.  
*ERB* : uh, I think that should be fine  
*ERB* : do you want to call me or should I call you?  
*KVP* : I'll call you, alright?  
*ERB* : yup that's just fine  
*ERB* : I'll go get comfortable

Bitty's not sure if he's gonna get dumped now before he even gets a chance with Parse. He hopes not. He's chewing on a hangnail and when the call goes through, finds himself hugging on señor Bun without remembering picking him up from under the pillow.

Kent Parson is calling him. In his little room in the Samwell Men’s Hockey Haus.

Oh god. Bitty’s gonna die. His innards are seizing up with dread.

Phone rings. Bitty slides to “accept”, and suddenly Kent -- Parse, he means, PARSE, is on the other end of the line, with that voice of his Bitty remembers from the munch.

“Hey Bitty,”  
“Hey Parse. Um, what did you need to phone about?”  
“Actually... I think I need to ask you a few things for starters.”  
“Ooooh, okay, sure, shoot.” 

Bitty’s ridiculously nervous. He knows he can’t lie for shit normally, and when he’s as nervous as this his voice tends to get all high and squeaky dammit!

“So you play hockey on your college team?”  
“Yeeees, yes i do. Please don’t ask me how a little guy like me plays hockey, I do fine most of the time, it’s just since the concussion last year that I’m having a little trouble and I need to practice some of the skills but I’m real fast, real fast, I’m the fastest one on the team and it’s because i used to figure skate, you know? So I’m mostly playing right wing and I don’t get a lot of ice time because…  
“Bitty. Take a breath there.” (fondness in his voice, Parse is fond?)  
“Oh, okay. Yeah, sorry I tend to babble when I’m nervous”  
“Why are you nervous? It’s okay Bitty, it’s just me.”  
“I know, Parse, and I trust you. It’s just… this is all so new to me, um I’m not totally freaking out, but I’m maybe kinda freaking out a little? And I want you to know you can trust me too.”

Oops. 

“Um.”

Kent raises his eyebrows audibly when he says, with an unimpressed tone, “Bitty, is there anything in particular I need to worry about trusting you with? Is there, maybe, something you’re not telling me?”

Bitty’s frozen and can’t think of what to say. He breathes into the phone for a second or two.

“Um, there might be?”

There’s a hint of laughter in Parse’s voice when he next speaks. “Bitty?”

“I know we’ve never talked about what you do for a living, Parse. I know you’ve made a point of not saying what you do for a living, and you gave me a nickname to call you.”

Parse is being obviously faux-serious. “Yes, yes I did give you a nickname to call me. Is that some kind of big deal? Or do only you hockey bros get to have nicknames?”

Bitty huffs. “Parse, if you wanna keep plausible deniability, you need to stop poking at it like this. If you don’t, I’m just gonna say it.”

“Poking at it? But we haven’t gotten that far through the checklists yet, I don’t think you can make those kinds of assumptions, Bitty.” There’s a grin in his voice. Is this boy flirting with him now, in his moment of doubt?

Bitty flushes warm all over. This is something he’s learning from the sites that Kent’s sent him to read. Trust has to go both ways. Communication and honesty has to go both ways. If this breaks trust, he’d rather know it now.

He closes his eyes and says, nearly a whisper, “Kent.”

“I keep having to remind myself I’m not supposed to call you Kent. I been worried I’ll mess up and tell you accidental like, like I practically did earlier.”

After a brief pause, Bitty hears a cautious, “So you knew?”

Bitty, definitely worried: “...Yup.”

Parse, or Kent, can he call him Kent now? “Did you know from the beginning?”

Bitty is starting to relax. 

“Yup. Yup I did. Although when I first saw you at first I thought you were just a pretty, pretty man who happened to look like Kent Parson. Once you started talking though, I was sure. Our Haus watches all the hockey games we can get that aren’t blacked out in Massachusetts and all the boys talk about who they’d wanna be or who they think is the coolest…and we watch all the post game interviews and you are the *whispering* youngest NHL team captain ever, and you hold a like shit ton of hockey records did you really think I wouldn’t know who you were?”

Kent seems to be laughing quietly over the phone line.

“And let’s not even talk about your ESPN body issue, Mister Parson.”

Kent: “oh we’re not going to talk about that? ... We’re not, are we?” Gosh the warmth in his voice...

Bitty’s face must be incandescent from all the blushing. He can hear it in his voice, as he mumbles distinctly, “we are NOT talking about that. No, we are NOT.”

Kent’s definitely laughing quietly. “Actually, I did wonder how someone with a sports scholarship didn’t recognize me, but I didn't wanna make assumptions and be arrogant. You were pretty cool about meeting me, Bitty. That’s not common if someone’s a fan, you know.”

Bitty’s mouth is hanging open. “I was *cool* about meeting you?” Wow. That… that isn’t how Bitty remembers it. Not at all how Bitty remembers it.

“You were impressive, is what you were, Bitty.”

“Me? *I* was impressive?” Bitty practically squeaks. How???

“Bitty, I don’t give my phone number out. Like, ever. Like my teammates have it, my mom and sister have it, the people who manage my shit for me have it, but I don’t just go around… it’s not safe.”

“I wanted to be trustworthy,” Bitty says passionately, but quietly. “I wanted to show you that I can keep private things private when they need to be.”

Kent exhales audibly. “Yeah. And you did that. Thank you for that.”

Bitty is leaning forward, elbows on knees, leaning on the phone in his hand. “I realized almost as soon as I came home, that this could go real bad for you, if everyone and their dog found out. I mean, I’m out to the team. I could out you accidentally, if anyone knew we were, um, planning on stuff. But the only person who even knows I went to the munch is my friend Trill, and they’re about the least hockey-interested person on the planet.”

“Okay. Okay… Bitty?”

“Yeah, Parse?”

“I know you know about closets, and I'm glad you understand that nobody, like, nobody wants to be the first out player in the NHL.”

Bitty swallows his heart back down out from his throat and waits for Parse to continue. It's probably only a few seconds but it seems like a really long time. He listens to Parse's breathing and barely breathes, himself. 

A long sigh on the other end of the line.

“Bitty. I still want this. I still… trust you. I still wanna scene with you, I still ... wanna touch you.”

And when Parse speaks again, Bitty can hear a edge of command, like when Jack is calling a play in practice or on the ice.

“If you still want this, or if you don't, I need to know. I need to know now. There are things I can teach you about how to be safer and under the radar. How to keep what we do, quiet.”  
A long pause, and Bitty can hear his inhalation. “But you need to have at least one person who you can talk with about...us. if we're going to be, like, an us…”

It's the first hint of worry in Kent's voice that Bitty's ever heard.

“You need to have someone who you can talk to. I have, um, my therapist. You can't bottle everything up and keep it a secret from everyone.” Kent's tone is urgent.

“Oh.” Bitty thinks for a moment. “So, like, the secret keeper in the Harry Potter books?” Bitty's been super into the whole series since he was barely big enough to read them.

Kent exhales audibly. “Yeah, like a secret keeper.” And then he laughs quietly.

Bitty's face goes from his thinking frown into his surprised face. “What's so funny?”

“You didn't say that you don't wanna do this.”

Bitty whisper-yells, “Are you outta your everliving MIND, Kent Parson? Like I'd be dumb enough to give up a chance at this? My momma didn't raise no fool. Whatever this turns out to be, I can already tell it's gonna be worth doing almost any kind of work necessary.”

Winding up a good head of steam, Bitty continues: “And it's not like I've ever been scared of hard work. Katya knows, she was my figure skating coach for years. My hockey coaches know I'll work my heart out. And my team captain, who works harder than GOD, has got me up before dawn for MONTHS, three times a week for checking practice before anyone is using the rink.”

Kent replies, a frown in his voice, “Checking practice? Why do you…”

Bitty interrupts, “That ain't important just now. The thing I need you to REMEMBER is that I'll work HARD for things that are worth it.”

He continues, quieter. “And I think that being with you will be worth it.”

On the other end of the line, Bitty hears Kent suck in a surprised breath. He didn't say anything to Kent that isn't true. But now Kent has to decide. He sounded willing, even wanting, but…

“When can I see you again?” Is not what Bitty's expecting to hear. 

Bitty grins, heart soaring, as he and KENT start to compare schedules over the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nearly 2500 word chapter woot!
> 
> Ngozi's Christmas update drops tomorrow. I cannot WAIT!!  
> thanks again to DizzyRedhead and the others in the Discord discussion group for all the encouragement and all the sprints and the willingness to once-over to tyop hunt. This is so much easier and so much more fun with all y'all!
> 
> it's important to me that this story never ever earns the tag of "undernegotiated kink", because that shit can be traumatic, and I wanna write a different model. If y'all ever spot a place where the characters are making assumptions or it's unclear to you that the negotiations and communication were as clear as possible, and it's not resolved by the chapter's end, I wanna know. I'll fix it. I don't intend any of the conflict to be because someone fucked up in their boundary-work.


	8. Jack’s *very early* morning routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That feeling when your brain surprises you with something...

Jack usually masturbates mechanically. It’s just a thing his body needs, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. He has a routine for this. Like his other routines, it has a predictable timing (first thing in the morning, might as well work with what nature gives you, after all), it’s quick, doesn’t require a lot of thought (grab a little lube from the bedside table, and the tissues to catch the end result) touch yourself in the ways you know you like.

But this morning the usual routine isn’t working, and Jack is getting a little frustrated. It’s early enough that the sky outside the Haus window is barely lighter than black, but the birds are starting to wake up and he knows that he’s running out of time and that makes a thin curl of anxiety unwind in his chest. Soon his Hausmates will be waking up, or some of them, or one of them, namely Bittle. Bittle and he have another checking practice this morning and it’s going to be uncomfortable and distracting if he can’t finish this task before he has to get dressed and head over to the rink.

And how embarrassing would it be if for a change, Bitty woke and dressed first and came over and found Jack like this, his cock in his hand, hard and straining. If he found Jack jerking himself furiously, back arching, if he knocked on the door and then just WALKED IN…

Jack comes, suddenly, with a long slow quiet exhale barely hissing through his teeth. The orgasm unspools from deep in his belly, his toes curling; his whole body tensing, and the white stripes painting his belly and chest. 

Wow.

His muscles unlock one group at a time: butt and shoulders first, thighs and belly next, calves and arms gradually, till he’s as limp as a rag doll on his bed. 

He catches his breath and touches that last thought, that last sudden imagination, of Bitty walking in, of Bitty seeing him like THAT, but only touches it lightly. This wasn’t something he knew about himself. That he saw Bittle that way.

Jack touches the thought lightly and tucks it away tenderly. He can’t hold this in mind right now and actually go get ready for checking practice. But perhaps he can think about it more later.

He’s learned over the years that doing this quietly is necessary for privacy and he’s usually even quieter than he was today; he permits himself a few moments of recovery to appreciate the lassitude of his body. He feels good, in spite of the weirdness of Bittle making an appearance in his head during that last few moments. He’ll let himself have it, the stress relief is good for him, his therapist says. 

While he can permit himself to think things and to feel things, (let’s not talk about wanting things) there are some things he’s definitely not allowed to want, or not allowed to talk about, but he’s allowed to think things and feel things. Even about other people. Yeah. Even about other people. 

In the moment, as he rolls himself out of bed, stretching his arms in the bathroom door frame, he allows himself a wry smile and a thought that he’s glad he’s an early riser and Shitty definitely is NOT. This was definitely something that made privacy necessary and that does NOT need Shitty’s naked or half naked self to witness. Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to use subscription numbers to try and motivate myself to write. y'all there's over a hundred subscribers to this?   
> Like, thank you entirely, I'm super flattered and psyched to work on pushing more story together into a coherent form.
> 
> This chapter here, though short, was mostly written already and just needed some light editing to post. I set my timer for a 15 minute sprint and moved things around and spellchecked lightly. Please let me know if you spot a tyop, I hate them and like to fix them.
> 
> I'm going to try a couple more sprints today and see if I can get another chapter whipped into shape.


	9. apparently I’m gay AND slutty ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty, being Bitty, is doing a rambly kind of research on "that homework" that Parse gave him to do. He's having a lot of fun with this...

Being touched in other ways is ... different, once someone's touched you with wanting. Leans are different. Heck, bruises are different, and in a weird way, filled with anticipation... Hair tousles are different (thanks Jack) and an arm slung around your neck is different (thanks Shitty, Holster, and Ransom UGH.) 

Bitty doesn't want to be thinking of these things. He doesn't wanna light up when all his friends touch him… it's confusing and embarrassing. And it's maybe dangerous. I mean it's SAMWELL, but still there's toxic bros around everywhere else, Bitty's not sure he can afford to relax.

Also he's not sure he can handle adding the fact that he's attracted to so many of his friends, to the fact that he's gay (and he KNOWS that he's gay, it's fine) but he's kinda not sure that he's ready to admit that he's gay AND apparently a little slutty. I mean that's what it means when you like and are attracted to multiple people, right?

Maybe he's not slutty if he doesn't act on the other attractions. But then if he were straight, he knows that there are definitely bros in other parts of sports culture who would totally call him a “stud” for having sex with multiple people. Bitty's always been real uncomfortable with that double standard over sex, and now he doesn't know if there's a double standard between gay and straight men.

“I really need to get out more,” Bitty murmurs to himself, “need to meet some more nice queer boys to talk to, and just to TALK to.” 

Bitty thinks, it's not that I wanna hit it and quit it with any of my boys, which is to say, they're all extremely attractive young men, mostly with an inherent sweetness to them, and any one of them is definitely crushworthy… just he’d thought that once he had a Someone Who Wanted Him that the rest of these Feelings and Attractions would Settle Down. Bitty hears his own Dramatic Capitalization and giggles. He does know better, honestly he does, than to fall into a dramatic spiral about his love life… he looks at himself as a practical person, but also knows that he tends to like and then fall in like easily with people he's fond of and who are fond of him. 

“I mean, look at Jack. He's un-de-niably an attractive (tragically, straight) man,” Bitty says quietly to himself. He and Bitty have been working together on checking and also, sometimes, just playing around on the ice. That part is so much fun. They have miniature games of tag (Bitty wins most of those) they have the one thing where Bitty tries to hip check Jack, and Jack is like a MOUNTAIN, save me lord Jesus, and doesn't move an inch. Jack studies in the kitchen while Bitty is baking, chirping all the while; Bitty and Jack get coffee and froyo on the regular. Even after that first, kinda awful year there at Samwell, where Jack was Definitely a Jerk, Jack’s easy to lo… LIKE. He’s easy to like. Yup. 

Bitty decides to stop dwelling on Certain Unattainably Canadian Young Men by returning his thoughts back to consider the even more pleasant thought of the Almost Certainly Attainable Young Man in his life. And Bitty’s been thinking an awful lot lately about what he and Parse have been discussing, small wonder indeed and nobody would be surprised if they knew. 

But nobody knows. Bitty hasn’t even breathed a hint of it on his vlog. 

Sometimes, though, he catches himself dwelling on certain… ideas at very inopportune moments. For instance he’s glad he doesn't drive a car up here at Samwell, what with the amount of woolgathering he’s been doing lately! 

Seriously now, with everything going on, Bitty keeps finding himself almost hyperaware of his own body. His skin, his muscles, the pleasure in moving and dancing and hugging and cellys during games and practices… and it’s not like any of those things are *intentionally* sexual, but bless him, he’s nineteen years old with the closest thing to a boyfriend he’s ever had, talking openly about sexy things and all manner of things he’s thought about and never discussed before with a single soul. It’s terrifying and it’s thrilling and he feels unbelievably, inexplicably alive.

He lingered late in the showers after practice the other day, enjoying the steam heat and the simple slipperiness of his own skin. He tried some of his old figure skating stretches to see where his flexibility is at these days and he can’t *quite* put his foot all the way up to his head, standing. Not anymore. It’s a good stretch though, and he’ll have to try it in front of the mirror at home to see if it’s impressive enough to show Parson. Heh.

Public showers aren’t ideal for sensual exploration though, no matter what the porno makers seem to think. Too many awkward moments, likely embarrassing interruptions, and such.  
Private showers that AREN’T the Haus might be nice. Oh dear. Bitty files that one away for future reference, and probably will wind up suggesting it to Parse in one of their texting sessions. *grin*  
It was much better to be thinking about such things as potential new sexual experiences in a private space, behind a door that locks. Perhaps with an internet connection and a laptop for looking things up with?

Bitty has a checklist of items to learn more about, he’s been starting with the things he knows already he has an interest in: the biting, the lots of different kinds of touching. Food play is a maybe, roleplay is a maybe, acting and pretending kind of sounds like fun with the right person. 

Being made to wait for your orgasm… Bitty doesn’t know about that. He decides maybe he should try and figure out how to do that to himself first, but lord knows that he doesn’t have hours and hours to spend by himself ordinarily, just for something like this. There’s practices and homework and games, and there’s pies to bake and hungry teammates to feed, and Mario Kart to play. And it’s not like Bitty’s real great at prioritizing his own use of his time, especially not when there’s so many distracting things to do and people to do things WITH. 

Bitty snickers to himself. He’s the only person he knows who could get himself distracted from thinking about sex with the fact that he’s distractible. Damn. Okay, well, then maybe he’ll just put on some music for background and decide on what he wants to do next, in the moment.

The music makes him want to dance, remembering the impromptu dancing around the kitchen that happens at least once a week… or like that one dance party in the locker room…. Singing and dancing with the frogs… his life is full of gorgeous boys being joyful and making a joyful noise, and in this moment right now, he knows he’s happy.

There’s a driving beat, the melody swings, the vocals draw him right in singing along with the singer. You ride on the music and it just tells you where to go and what to do. Too bad real life doesn’t usually work like that. You just don’t get a mama or a teacher or a secretary or a boss for your whole life who will tell you what to do and when. That would make life so much easier, Bitty thinks.

Well. If Parse wants to tell him what to do... Bitty shivers. A sly smile crosses his face. That’s something worth exploring, certainly. So many songs have choreography; someone has already told you what to do, how to dance it. Someone who knows what they’re doing designs the choreography… Bitty runs his hand across his chest and down to his hip, stalks across his room in the rhythm of the beat, grins, and makes a note to read more about this, maybe talk with Kent about getting told what to do and what it might feel like.

Bitty researches submission next, gets some definitions and some websites, watches some videos, starts thinking about what it is he likes and doesn't. He finds out he likes the idea of CBT - he *thinks*. And he likes the idea of marking though it shouldn’t maybe get indulged in while everyone is in a position to chirp him hard in the locker room, because that would be embarrassing, and make it harder to keep the secret. 

He likes the idea of being made to hold still while someone touches him, he likes the idea of touching someone else in ways he’s told to do it. He kinda likes the idea of sexual goals… dragging it out over hours, or multiple orgasms. He doesn’t know if he can *do* that, he’s usually overstimulated after just one orgasm, too much so to keep going, but maybe there’s specific techniques that people use? Bitty adds this to his list of questions for Parse.

This is the best homework EVER. What else? He likes the idea of costuming, he knows he’s in good shape and he takes a lot of pride in looking good. What would it be like to wear something that someone else picked out for him because they thought it would look good?

The idea is simultaneously hot and disconcerting. What if the other person, what if Kent, has radically different taste about what looks good? What if Kent wanted him to wear, i don’t know, fishnets or something? Actually… hm. Queen Bey looks amazing in fishnets and heels, he should *aspire* to look that good. Teeny flashy underwear? Leather?? 

Dear God. What has he gotten himself into?

Bitty makes another note about brainstorming things he thinks he’d be willing to wear and some categories of things he doesn't think he’d be happy in. And of course it depends on whether they’re being public or private, doesn’t it? Would he be willing to wear something sexy UNDERNEATH regular clothes, in a public place?

The thought gives him a little thrill, and he finds himself catching his breath and biting his lip. Yes, yes, he would be willing to do that, yes sirree Bob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: 
> 
> ...yes I do know that having desire for multiple people at the same time is not the same thing as being slutty, but Bitty came to Massachusetts from Georgia and hasn't really encountered/gotten to know many polyamorous people, so he's learning about one aspect of sexuality at a time. 
> 
> I Haven't Decided Yet how the idea of polyamory will be introduced, but something like that is the endgame of this fic, SO!!!
> 
> also I think I need to do something off-camera where Bitty does meet and talk to some nice queer folks who he can ask questions of. Perhaps Trill will have some suggestions, or perhaps he'll find out that some of his boys are a titch more queer than he realizes? =D


	10. Kent is a Planner...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the fun imagination that goes into when you're early into seeing someone, I wonder what they'll like et cetera, turning yourself on with your own brain...

Bitty and Kent have been happily texting back and forth now that Kent knows Bitty’s to be trusted, Eric’s to be trusted. They flirt a lot. Eric makes outrageous statements. Kent eggs him on, shepherds him around the kink community, and he most definitely flirts back. He compliments Eric outrageously. Eric blushes a lot. Kent blushes more than he’s willing to admit. 

They like doing and saying things to make one another feel good, for no other reason than that it makes each other feel good. Praise and plans and talk about real life all mixes in together and they sext. They sext kind of a LOT. 

Eric gradually shares things he's pretty sure he’ll like when they next are face to face, and Kent is a naughty naughty boy who likes to break Eric's habits of indirect, southern, round about ism. He wants to make Eric say things like, “I want you to eat me out” or “I want you to make me take your cock, sir” or “I want you to tie me up and fuck me slow and easy, sir.” 

They haven’t yet found the right mode of address to use that satisfies both of them. 

Kent doesn’t want to be anyone’s Master, but sir is good for casual usage and Eric just falls into that for some things because he’s just so damn Southern-polite. And Kent’s only five years older than him, doesn’t have a daddy-kink, so he’s testing out what to call Eric that’s not boy or my boy. They both enjoy inventing ridiculous pet names, though. Speedy might stick, because Eric wants to rush into things, experience everything all at once. Kent, on the other hand, wants to take it slow because he never got to. Not with Jack, nor with any other partners. 

He's already heard himself say more than once, "Hey slow down there, road runner!" Maybe that one will stick. Or "Beep-beep!" Kent loves that he and Eric can be silly together, and that they both have this breathtaking ability to swing from passion to laughing, from silly to hot in an instant. Eric follows _beautifully_.

Eric gets a night where most of the Haus is quiet. He’s basically alone in the Haus and the boys are at very least used to Bitty making recordings and phone calls out of his room. For him to make a phone call even if it is THIS kind of a phone call isn’t too far out of the norm. He’s just going to have to be pretty quiet. 

This is going to be a real treat for Kent. Eric’s got headphones with a mic so he can edit sound and do voice overs for his vlog posts. They’ve learned that this means Kent can be almost as dirty as he actually wants to be. 

Eric is wearing his headphones tonight, so his Hausmates can’t hear what Kent’s saying that makes Eric whine or moan or stutter. Kent finds his noises delicious.

Kent MIGHT have spent a little money making sure that Eric 's headphones are a really good quality and that his microphone is of an EXCEPTIONAL quality. Exceptionally good. Clarity of sound unsurpassed. 

Eric accepted the gift once Kent made note of its multifunctional good qualities. Kent grins quietly to himself at the memory. 

They have a Skype date tonight. Kent’s going to talk Eric through trying some things they haven’t been able to do in real life. Kent’s hoping he can talk Eric into spending a day with him before he goes home for Thanksgiving. Or maybe after Thanksgiving, if he can convince his parents he needs to go back to school earlier. Say if he heads north early Saturday morning and spends all day Sunday with Kent in Boston ...

So, Skype! Kent’s encouraging Eric to use some toys he’s bought for him. One of those slim prostate-massaging dildos, and a plain realistic looking silicone cock… it’s not as good as if he was actually teaching Bitty to suck his cock in real time, but it’s what they can actually do. 

Kent himself has a couple of different toys for fucking. He likes taking it AND giving it, and he’s got one of the Fleshlight toys. He likes it a lot and wonders if Eric will like it. Because Eric’s nineteen years old. And who doesn’t like sex when they’re nineteen (but then he remembers Ace his goalie who okay fair, doesn’t like sex because he’s ace as well as Ace hahahah those goalies they sure are weird.) 

Point being, and digression aside, he thinks Eric would REALLY like the Fleshlight. He’s spinning out a fantasy about some future date where he makes Eric fuck himself between his fingers and the Fleshlight or his DICK and the Fleshlight and he’s already enjoying himself pretty thoroughly when the notification for the Skype call comes through. As requested, Eric is already naked and hard when his image comes through on the laptop screen. 

He is so beautiful, flushed and nervous still, wearing only the headphone and mic Kent got him. He can’t doubt that he’s wanted, can he? Or maybe he’s just turned on and fidgety. Both scenarios are reasonable with Eric, he’s found.

“You all right there, sweet thing?” he chirps.

As predicted, Eric’s eyes roll at him. His voice comes through as rich as molasses or maple syrup or honey. Good call, past-Kent, on springing for the quality microphone.

“I’m fine, sweetheart, how are you doing tonight?” says a smiling Eric, not even very sarcastic.

Oh I’m good, thinks Kent. I like watching your golden skin even from here, even through the screen. I just want to lick your freckles and bite you till you’re covered in bruises and other marks that show you are MINE ...

Wait. Kent's mind stutters for a second.

What? 

That was not at all what Kent expected. Not like he didn’t know he’s a possessive bastard but he didn’t think he’d gotten to this point with Bitty. 

He shakes it off like he would a hit from a New York defenseman out on the ice. He smiles back at Eric, then grins like a shark, and tips his chin down. He focuses his intent gaze into the camera for his laptop.

"I, " he says slow and deep and deliberate, "am EXCELLENT. And I have plans for YOU tonight, Road Runner..."

He gets to watch as Eric bites his lower lip, blushes, and shivers slightly, his nipples visibly tightening.

Not Mine, maybe, but Mine For Now, Kent thinks, swallowing and touching the screen for a moment.

Then he's grinning some more, recalling his playbook for the evening. He tells Eric to settle himself on the bed just so... with the toys handy and the camera angle enticing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s pretty awesome that Kent doesn’t have to hide his crazy schedule from Eric anymore. If he wants pie or other treats he gives Eric a day’s advance heads-up on where he and the team are staying (shit he must REALLY trust Eric if he’s telling him about which hotel the team is staying at) and Eric usually can come through with some kind of mouth watering deliciousness. 
> 
> (uh, Kent may have given Eric a UPS code to use that will make sure that he never ever has to pay for postage when he’s mailing shit to Kent.) Sometimes Eric sends him enough to share with the team and that’s awesome. But it's also weird because then the team wants to know where he’s getting this delicious schwag and Kent has to prevaricate or avoid the question somehow... 
> 
> ...after months of not working on this, I just had to assemble something from my notes and post it to try and get going again. Feedback is welcome and feeds the writing machine!
> 
> ...oh no unexpected feelings in the porn? what ever shall we do? (heh heh heh)


	11. keeping various secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trill gives some advice. Bitty thinks about some things, and Jack, oh dear, Jack is a BAD BOY.

Bitty goes to see Trill. They're the only one who knows what Bitty got himself into, back at the Munch at the Denny's, and Bitty knows he can trust Trill to keep quiet about everything.

Over coffee at Annie’s, Bitty chokes through his embarrassment, eyes on his fingers twisting nervously together, to explain what happened at the munch, and then the last few weeks of phone calls and Skype calls with Kent.

“Ay, BITTY!” Trill croons, cackling… 

He raises his rapidly warming face when confronted with Trill’s hand in front of it. Groaning, he slowly taps that hand with his palm and Trill continues to laugh gleefully. “Ohhhhh GET IT, Bitty!”

“Could you just NOT?”

“Oh honey, I think I CAN, for another minute at least. Someone needs to laugh with and at you for at least a hot minute!” Trill's chortling starts to taper off.  
More seriously, leaning across the table: “He treating you right?”

Bitty bites his lip over a big grin. “So right. So very right.” He covers his face with his hand and Trill makes a sound that is surely only hearable by canines, slapping the table in their glee.

“That’s good, little Bitty. You deserve a good time, and to learn what you want and with who.”

Bitty tells Trill a little about the checklists, the research and the homework Kent has assigned.

“So where are you two going from this? Do you know where you’d want this to go from here? Like is this a fling, friends with benefits, would you want to be boyfriends with this guy?

Bitty doesn't know but he starts feeling his way into Trill’s questions. “Oh lord honey, he is hot like BURNING. And he’s sweet and funny and a little bit …” Bitty whispers the next word “Wicked.” 

Trill’s chortle startles the customers at the next table.

The pink is coming back to his cheeks. “I really really like him.”

Trill’s expression is Classic Older Sister. “Yeah?”

Bitty leans his face on his hand. “Yeah… I just still can’t hardly believe he’s even WITH me, you know?”

Slowly nodding, Trill asks, “Have y'all sat down to Define The Relationship?” 

Bitty’s facial expression admits that they haven't done that yet, exactly. He has to admit to himself that he doesn’t even know how to get started with that. But surely Kent wouldn’t spend all this time and energy (and honestly some money) if he didn’t like Eric. He says as much to Trill, who hmms.

“Do you need a starting place for the conversation? I know you’re bound to be anxious about this, and if this counts as your first real relationship, you need to be communicating. I’m glad y’all are already doing the kink checklists and such, but you have to protect your heart, too. If he’s being a good Dom, like it sounds like he is, he’ll appreciate you being as clear as you can with him.”

With a wry smile, Trill turns one hand palm up on the table. Bitty slides his hand over and takes it, grinning back.  
“All right young padawan, here’s where you get the benefit of a couple of awful relationship experiences I’ve had, with a side of I’ve thought about this for awhile, and here’s what I’d do differently.”

Bitty eyerolls at the drama but prepares to drink in the knowledge. He knows his life is different from Trill’s, but a starting point is a starting point, and he’s not going to scoff at well meaning, friendly, confidential advice.

*****

He's still thinking about their conversation as he heads back to the Haus.

Bitty has a lifetime of being in the closet after all, it turns out that the skills are transferable. Keeping secrets is keeping secrets, whether they’re his, or someone else’s… or … ours. 

Our secrets, Bitty thinks. He’s not sure that he and Kent are an “us” but they do share the secret. And time spent with Kent is … indescribably good. Kent makes Bitty come alive in a way that nobody has ever done before. He pulls out the ball of pie crust from the fridge, rolls it out briskly, and transfers it into the waiting tin with the ease of long practice.

Heh. Come alive. Heh. 

Bitty smirks into the mixed berry pie he’s weaving a lattice on top of, dancing at the kitchen counter along with his Autumn Baking Playlist, feeling good about himself. He feels warm and sensual and hungry and complete. He wishes he could talk openly about this good thing he’s got going, but the only person on the team who can (theoretically) keep a secret is Lardo. It's been obvious since he met them that Holster and Ransom are right out, and Shitty’s so enthusiastic and loud that even his whispers penetrate walls. 

What about Jack? 

Tell Jack? that he’s met someone, is having fantastic sex with someone? And wants to have a lot more? 

Bitty backpedals away from that idea so fast he nearly staggers back. 

Why? Why is the idea of sharing with, confiding in Jack, his friend and team captain, so suddenly a giant pile of NO? He babbles at Jack about Everything... 

But Bitty doesn’t want to think about it, so he decides not to. He knows he could trust Jack forever with a secret if he had to, but he decides to not worry about it unless he really DOES have to. He turns up the music in his ear buds, shakes himself back into his groove, and gets back to finishing the custard for this Tribute to the PSL pie that he’s gonna make next.

*****

Jack’s leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, a slight smile on his face. He’s pretty sure Bittle is so lost in his baking and his music that he doesn’t even realize he’s not alone in the kitchen. He’s swaying, dancing… little snatches of song light up the kitchen, but not enough for Jack to recognize the song that’s playing. He shakes his head at himself. He loves chirping Bittle for his music, but really he admires the passion that comes out between his singing and his dancing, his sheer full-body enjoyment of his favorite artists. 

Bittle moves like… Jack doesn’t know. He doesn’t have words for what Bittle is doing with his body right now… dance moves have names, right? But Bittle… he used to be such a scared little frog, new to the North, new to the cold, new to the liberal arts environment… he used to move so tentatively, with his shoulders hunched, his arms tight.

Except on the ice. Jack nods to himself. Bittle has always moved beautifully, and with confidence, on the ice.

But this. This … Jack doesn’t know what exactly to call it, but he knows there’s been a change in something for Bittle. He relaxed more and more around the Haus during his Frog year, as he got accustomed to being able to trust most of the guys on the hockey team. And he’s always been a joyful dancer (though Jack seems to remember that he needed a cup or two of tub juice to get started, most of the time.)

There’s some kind of new fluidness to his movement. Some kind of … Jack hesitates, even in his own mind, to use the word “sensuality” towards a teammate. Even towards a teammate he’s had an awkwardly powerful sexual fantasy about. But sensual, is what he’s feeling. Sensual, even sexual, is what Bittle’s showing, as he dances to whatever he’s listening to on his phone.

Jack realizes just before Bittle starts to turn around that he’s accidentally (?) popped an awkward boner, and a blush heats his face and neck. His sudden pivot in the doorway must have caught Bitty’s attention, because as he steps away he hears an abrupt, “Oh, hey! Jack! Hi, I didn’t see you there!”

He curses himself for an awkward fuck as he waves backwards at Bittle, saying over his shoulder, “It’s fine, Bittle, I’ve got reading to do for tomorrow. See you later, eh?”

Jack swiftly takes the stairs two at a time to his room, awkward boner bouncing, a stretch in his hamstrings. Heat in his face, he feels almost bad about knowing what he’s going to do next, but he can’t get the image out of his head, of Bitty dancing LIKE THAT, only  
Instead of in the kitchen,  
Jack sees his warm brown eyes and slow flirtatious smile...  
and imagines Bitty dancing, like that,  
for Jack.

Slamming his own door shut, and turning the lock, Jack can’t shove his shorts down fast enough. His face is on fire, his heart is racing, his belly feels weak. Leaned against the door, in his need he hasn’t even made it to the bed. His hand closing over his own dick feels so good that he bites his lip and makes a little grunt. This sensation? He can feel it all the way up into his belly, his chest, his heart. It’s almost overwhelming, and so so good.

He feels like he *should* feel guilty, ashamed, for this, for almost *using* Bittle like this. But that dirty thought just winds him up even tighter, triggers fleeting fragments of memories from _Before_ , clandestine moments, groping in the dark.

The worry and fear of getting caught. Tongues and hands and the sharpness of pulling hair, scratches and pinches that hurt but felt good, even delicious, drugging… the fear and the pleasure. Fear of exposure, worry, shame, the pleasure-pressure of bodies frantically sliding, groping, pressed together, warm wet mouths and the taste of skin. The usual no-homo wrestling heightened to an erotic level. Pressing one another's bruises at the dinner table, rough play, punching at shoulders and pecs in company of the other boys. Unexpected peaks of desire and emotion ... grinning at each other, knowing nobody knows their secrets.

The flashes are gone, but his need to get off is even more urgent now, driven, wanking hard, his shoulders braced against the door as he bites at his own mouth, watches his own hand. Jack feels the arousal curl through his whole body, down into his toes, up to the tops of his lungs as he breathes hard. He drives his hips forward through his fist but what tips him over the edge? Is a flash from his imagination of Bittle, looking up in front of him, biting his own lip and reaching out to touch Jack’s chest flirtatiously.

He barely manages to bite down on the cry as he comes, his head thunking back on the door as neck and chest muscles release their tension. Waves of pleasure and heat wash through his whole body, and when he starts to come out of the lassitude orgasm brings, he realized that his thighs are trembling now, from holding him up against the door so long. Jack staggers forward to sit on his bed, reaching for the tissues and the water bottle that live there. His head clears as he cleans up a bit, and he reluctantly acknowledges that this is starting to look like a pattern.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do about that knowledge, though, so he sets it aside for a moment, pulls his shorts back over his cock and his bare ass. Taking a long pull from his water bottle, he nods to himself, and decides that he won’t let it get weird and awkward.

He just won’t LET IT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been two months since the last update, this is the slowest slow burn, and thank you for your patience, y'all. For whatever reason, Nanowrimo has failed to kick my ass into writing like it sometimes has in the past. I'm literally consoling myself with scraping and tallying my word counts from the answers I write on quora and the couple of blog posts I'm managing to knock out. Intimacy, the whys and wherefores of it, I'm exploring that in several different places, trying to figure out trust and turn ons, (mine and others'), also thinking about healing from shame and how that informs our choices and our relationships. 
> 
> I'm struggling to write. The fires here in California have made it hard to breathe until just a few days ago, and that throws all kinds of planning and productivity expectations the fuck out the window. Comparing now to this time last year? Everyone on the OMGCP Nano discord was doing tons of word sprints, lots of cheering each other on and challenging. And I haven't been on the Discord chat often this month, and I miss everyone.
> 
> Right now I'm only writing fic if I sit down intentionally and set a timer. Kind of like forcing myself to word-sprint. Well, four sprints and one middle of the night just-before-bed revelation, and I've finally finished this chapter. *pats self on the back* The editing wasn't even that awful, I just had to figure out what the conversation with Trill covered, and how to make "shame is a turn-on for Jack Zimmermann" happen, with bonus flashbacks! (yay) I didn't even know I was going to do that using the flashbacks till I settled in bed last night around midnight, and of course that's when I got the "hey, hey, I know how to write that hard bit now", right after I tugged the comforter around me and started to get warm again.
> 
> It's so NICE to enjoy my own stories. I can read them again everytime I go to update, and I still authentically LIKE them. #winning
> 
> Please tell me if and how you liked this chapter, comments fuel the writing machine!!! <3<3<3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ngozi, who writes and arts Check, Please! You can start reading the comic on Tumblr (omgcheckplease.tumblr. com) or on the newer website (www.checkpleasecomic. com)
> 
> I have the same handle on Tumblr as I do here, (@Labelleizzy) and my Check Please sideblog is @MakeShittyKnightProud, where I throw all the delicious meta, pretty fanart, and fanfic that other people make.


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